The Perfect Stranger (Social Media #2)(93)

It’s probably because she’s not used to flying. She’d confessed earlier that she’s only been on planes a couple of times in her life, and not in many years.

Elena tried to prepare her, sending her an e-mail with instructions about how to get through airport security without incident: wear shoes that are easy to take off, have nothing in her pockets, make sure her laptop went through the scanners in its own bin, no liquids in her carry-on but instead placed inside a quart-sized clear plastic bag in containers that are three ounces or less . . .

There are so many rules now, Kay wrote back anxiously.

Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.

If only they could sit together, Elena thought, but there were only single seats left by the time they booked their tickets.

Too bad Kay didn’t get into Atlanta soon enough to join her at the airport bar. After a couple of Bloody Marys, she’d be feeling no pain.

“Kay!” Elena calls as she walks right past without spotting her. “Kay!”

The man next to her, on the aisle, rattles his open newspaper and makes a grouchy sound. Elena ignores him.

Kay stops, glances back, spots her and looks relieved. “Elena! Hi.”

“I thought you might miss the flight.”

“So did I.” Again, she looks over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Elena tells her. “You made it. They’re not going to kick you off now.”

“No, I know, it’s just . . .”

“Your luggage!” she exclaims, realizing Kay has only a purse over her shoulder. “You didn’t do carry-on like I told you?”

“I thought it would be easier to check it.”

No doubt because she made Kay fret about all the security procedures.

“It’s not a good idea to check bags when you have a connection,” she says. “It’s really tight because you were late—I bet your bag didn’t make it on.”

Kay looks even more distressed.

Elena backpedals: “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll get it on the next flight. No big deal. You need to relax. You look like you’re going to keel over again. Your luggage will be—”

“No, it’s not that. I just thought I saw . . . never mind.”

“What?”

The man beside Elena clears his throat and turns a page of his newspaper.

Yeah, yeah. I get it. We’re pissing you off, sir. I don’t really care.

“What did you think you saw?” Elena persists.

“Ma’am, please take your seat so that we can make an on time departure!” the flight attendant calls from up front.

In response, Kay moves toward the only open seat on the plane: a middle seat against the back wall of the passenger’s cabin, across from the bathroom. Elena is well aware that the passengers in her own row—either the grouchy man on the aisle or the morbidly obese woman by the window—will not make a last minute switch and sit in Kay’s seat instead, so that she can sit up here. And chances are, the people sharing Kay’s row would prefer their window and aisle seats to a middle seat a few rows ahead. Particularly with an open newspaper taking up a good portion of Elena’s seat on one side, and the oversized woman’s flesh spilling into it on the other.

Unable to wait until they land for Kay to explain, Elena says to her retreating back, “What did you think you saw?”

Kay turns just briefly, allowing Elena to connect with the disturbed look in her eyes. “You know. Her. In the airport. Just now.”

“Her . . . who?”

“J . . . C,” is the chilling reply, before Kay hurries back to take her seat.

Hollywood, Crystal Burns has come to realize, is more efficient at keeping secrets than the FBI and CIA combined.

All week, she and Frank have been trying to track down Jenna Coeur; all week, they’ve been coming up with dead ends.

An online search revealed that plenty of people have reported sighting her since her acquittal—mainly in New York City and Los Angeles, as you’d expect. Most seem legitimate. Other sightings, as you’d expect, are clearly bogus.

One nut job believes that she was an alien queen who has since shape-shifted herself into the secretary of state. Another—some loser on a porn message board—claims that Jenna Coeur has resurfaced in a film called Schlong Island Getaway.

Naturally, Frank volunteered to check out that one, just to be sure.

“It’s not her,” he reported, “but you wouldn’t believe what she does in the final scene. She—”

“I don’t want to hear it, thank you very much. And I can’t believe you watched the whole thing.”

“I fast-forwarded most of it.”

“Terrific, Frank.”

Now, on a sunny Saturday morning, Frank is busy attending his youngest’s kindergarten graduation ceremony, with Crystal’s wholehearted blessing.

And here she sits, sifting and resifting her way through the mountain of information she’s collected about Jenna Coeur and Jaycee the blogger—one and the same person, as far as she’s concerned.

That theory was cemented by the fact that Jaycee is clearly no ordinary blogger. The cyber crimes unit is involved in the investigation now, backtracking through every trace she left online, but so far they’ve turned up no hard evidence. A lot of people are careful, trying to preserve their online anonymity, but she’s taken great pains to cover her tracks on the Internet.